that might have been us
by sapphireswimming
Summary: It wasn't their usual TV dinner fare. But they'd take it.


**Several months ago, I'd posted a fic idea to tumblr where Sam and Dean caught an episode of Danny Phantom on TV and then debated the morality of their intervening in such a scenario. Well, the other day I awoke to scrollingdown (hybridkylin) asking what that plot bunny would turn into if they watched Gravity Falls instead of DP. And, to my astonishment, instead of just answering the question, I hashed out the first draft to a fic on tumblr before I left for work. So now I present to you the final result.**

 **Set amorphously in the first few seasons of Supernatural. And they're just watching season 1 of Gravity Falls, so, before stuff gets really intense. Even though I know that the timelines wouldn't match up like that but whatever.**

* * *

 **that might have been us**

July 25, 2015

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Dean toed the Impala door shut as softly as he could and managed to unlock the motel room with half a hand free, then maneuvered his way into the room with both arms carefully cradling their brown paper bags stuffed to the brim with warm containers of take out food.

He glanced over at Sam as he set the bags down on the rickety coffee table, gauging how serious the lack of greeting was. Normally, the arrival of food heralded at least some kind of response.

But Sam was much as he had left him, stretched out on the bed with local newspapers strewn around him for research purposes. No visible signs of distress, physical or otherwise.

The spiral bound notebooks in which he was supposed to be taking notes on possible cases in the surrounding counties, however, were nearly as empty as when he'd first left to go run their errands for the evening.

And the TV wasn't just background noise anymore. Normally _he_ was the one who got lost in mindless TV and Sam would normally ease his cares away by sticking his nose in a book. But the last thing he wanted to deal with here was his brother getting morose and cagey on him again.

"Hey," Dean ventured, eyebrow quirking at the scene.

"Hey," Sam replied amiably, giving his brother a quick grin and then absentmindedly stacking the papers into a single pile to clear off the top of Dean's bed in preparation of their makeshift dinner as he continued to watch the screen.

Dean looked up at it now too, expecting it to be some esoteric History Channel documentary with the way Sam seemed to be engrossed by it. Those things only got good once the guy being interviewed started bringing aliens into it but his geek of a brother somehow managed to enjoy them from beginning to end.

It was a cartoon.

A cartoon with little kids with bulbous heads. Not the sort of thing he expected his not-so-little-anymore geek brother to latch onto.

He didn't ask, but warily kept one eye on the show as he broke out their food, handing steaming cardboard boxes and plastic cutlery across.

Sam seemed to be enjoying it, and wasn't embarrassed enough to turn it off when he'd come into the room. They usually had something mindless playing on TV while they ate anyway, so Dean didn't suggest changing the channel even though he was still thoroughly confused by this entire scenario.

He saw a sickeningly over-enthusiastic glittery girl and her ever-anxious pen-chewing pushover of a brother and wondered why they were still watching this kid's show.

It wasn't until they got into the episode's plot and the creatures started appearing that he understood.

Ghosts. Gnomes. Shrinking rays. Video games and copy machines that brought things to life. Potential zombies that turned out to be creepy teenagers. Many headed bears. Goblin hybrids that made you see your worst fears.

It was a cartoon about their lives.

It was a cartoon about _hunting_.

At the next commercial break, Dean kicked off his shoes and swatted at Sam to make him move over. He nestled back against the worn wood of the headboard and dug into his food with renewed relish, bobbing his head along to the theme song as the next episode in the marathon began.

"Dude," Dean finally said during a commercial break as he crumpled up his napkin and lobbed it at the trash can by the door. It swished into the plastic with a clunk and rattle of a loose fork and knife. "They're so tiny, though. They're just teenagers."

"Twelve. Technically not teenagers," Sam corrected.

Dean swept an outraged hand toward the screen for emphasis. "See! Not even teenagers. They seem like reasonably sharp kids, though. Why are they so stupid staying in this town and _looking_ for things that go bump in the night?"

Sam snorted. "Look who's talking. Why do _you_ keep looking for the creepy crawlies for?"

"Because it's our job, doofus. Those kids are too young to have a job. Even a summer job."

"Really?" Sam asked, "Because I seem to remember you picking up shifts about that age."

Dean shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah, well," he half shrugged before latching onto a change of subject, "But we've been trained for this sort of thing. Plus we've got Dad's journal. We already know how to fight vampires. They didn't think that this stuff existed before they were dumped off with Grunkle Stan. They don't have anything."

The episode started up again, pausing their conversation for the moment.

"They have a journal too," Sam pointed out when there was time to talk without interrupting the show again.

"And that's a problem in and of itself," Dean argued. "Right? Isn't that part of the mystery of Gravity Falls? Whose journal is it? Where did it come from? Was the author actually trying to protect people or is this a black magic occult manual? Was he trying to get unsuspecting kids who pick this stuff up and decide to listen to it stuck in death traps?"

"Hey," Sam protested. "It's not like they trust it blindly either. But it's a journal. They have it. And it's working for them so far. They're stuck in this town all summer and there's no way they could avoid this stuff as long as they're there." He scraped the rest of his food into a heaping forkful. "Better that they've got some way to deal with all of the weirdness instead of getting caught unawares."

Dean hmmed but didn't reply. Sam side eyed him but before he had a chance to swallow his food and respond, the commercial break ended.

When the next episode wrapped up with a post credit scene code that he'd long since solved, Dean was still staring at the TV more pensively than normal.

Sam stretched with an over dramatic groan and pushed off of the bed to throw his take out containers away. Dean was still looking a little out of his element.

Walking back slowly, Sam weighed his options and decided to say something. He kept it as casual as he could, though, careful not to make too big a deal out of it if Dean didn't want it to be a thing.

Dean spooked easily when it came to things like this.

"Something on your mind?" he asked lightly as he grabbed the carton of two bite brownies to share between them. Must not have had any half-way decent pie on his stop. Which was just fine by him, he decided as he flipped the top open and grabbed one of the chocolaty pieces.

Dean kept his eyes on the screen, watching the cannibalistic cereal pieces devour each other in a sea of milk. But he eventually took a handful of mini brownies, which was an encouraging sign.

He didn't answer for a while, but Dean finally tilted his head, eyes still on the faded brick red comforter.

"We're good, Sammy," Dean said softly. Couldn't, and wouldn't, apologize for their life, even if Sam's indictment of it had been clear from his commentary on the plight of the Pines twins.

It wasn't their fault that they were hunting, but there was no getting out of it now.

"We have a journal with solid info," he said. "We know where it comes from. And there's a surly old man with a library in his basement to consult when all else fails."

Sam chewed another brownie bite thoughtfully, hearing the unspoken promises behind Dean's condensed but heartfelt version of a pep talk.

No need for them to rely on dubious sources they might happen to find in their life on the road's equivalent of the Oregon back woods.

Which was fine until they needed to because they were up against forces too powerful for the arsenal stuffed into the trunk of the Impala.

But still. If Dean thought they could make it through on their own, Sam would follow his lead.

"Besides," Dean added with a slow grin, making Sam worry about what was coming next. "We haven't run into a band of gnomes that want to make you their queen yet. But when we do, I'll be sure to have a leaf blower handy."

His chuckle turned into an undignified squawk of protest as Sam snatched the rest of the brownies with one hand and used the distraction to reach for the pillow off of his own bed and bring it down on top of Dean's head with a thudding _oomph_.

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 **Yeah, I know, I know, no reactions to Bill. Didn't fit in this scene, sorry.**

 **But I'll be hitting up this crossover again so we'll see what happens next time. ;D**


End file.
